The card party was rather dull, but as there was little else to do in Meryton on a chilly winter's evening - at least nothing with so many agreeable young ladies (or rather, respectable, agreeable young ladies) than could be found at one of Mrs. Philips’ gatherings - Mr. Wickham politely accepted the invitation when it was offered to him by Miss Lydia Bennet.  Thus he found himself making up a foursome with Miss Lydia, her sister Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and Mrs. Philips.  Unfortunately his card partner was Mrs. Philips herself, who seemed more intent on keeping up the conversation she was having with her sister Mrs. Bennet than attending to the game, so the pair was losing rather badly.

“Sister, have you heard the news about Miss King?” inquired Mrs. Philips.

“No.  Is she to go and live with her uncle in Liverpool?” replied Mrs. Bennet at the next table.  “Poor Miss King.  Orphaned so young and now to lose her grandfather, too.”

“She is not poor Miss King any longer, Sister,” Mrs. Philips said significantly.  “I believe she intends to stay here in Meryton with her great aunt, but as she now has an inheritance of 10,000 pounds, I expect she can live wherever she likes.”

The word “inheritance” always seemed to catch Mr. Wickham’s attention.  Miss King, he thought, which one is she? He quickly reviewed all the young ladies of the neighborhood with whom he had recently become acquainted and could not for the life of him put a face to the name of Miss King.

“She can live with the Prince Regent himself and I should still call her poor,” said Lydia testily, “And with all those freckles I am sure she will remain Miss King for quite some time, no matter how many pounds she has inherited!”

Ah yes - freckles, recalled Mr. Wickham. Miss King must be the short one with the copper hair.

“Lydia!” reprimanded Elizabeth, “Do not be so cruel.  What has Miss King ever done to you?”

“Last month she bought a bonnet that Lydia had her eye on,” volunteered Miss Kitty Bennet, also from the next table.

“It would have looked much better on me,” pouted Lydia. “Truly, I would look better in anything compared to that nasty freckled little thing!”

“Lydia!” cried Elizabeth.

The younger girl glared briefly at her older sister, and then squealed in glee as she drew a particularly good card.  The conversation dropped and play continued.  Shortly thereafter Mr. Wickham and Mrs. Philips lost the game, for although her attention had finally been drawn to it, his had become distracted by 10,000 other thoughts.

~~~~~

What luck, thought Mr. Wickham that evening on the walk back to his quarters.  Miss King's inheritance could not have come at a better time.  His debts were daily increasing and his meager pay and rare winnings would never be able to cover them.  He needed to find an additional source of income, the sooner the better. And if it involved matrimony, so be it. Hadn't that always been his plan anyway?

He could recall Miss King now.  It was true she did have freckles, but he did not find them nearly as distasteful as Miss Lydia.  In fact, Miss King had other assets to offset that slight drawback.  Although she was a bit shorter than most of her friends, she was well rounded - something Mr. Wickham never objected to - and her distinctive hair color complemented her fair complexion.  He recalled her being pleasant but a bit unsure of herself, and if he judged correctly - and he usually did in these matters - she seemed naive enough to be ... persuaded ... of his tender regard.  Another mark in her favor was her extreme lack of potential protectors. He had heard Mrs. Philips say that Miss King lived with a maiden great-aunt, the sister of the dearly-departed grandfather, who would undoubtedly welcome any attention he cared to pay her niece. The uncle that Mrs. Bennet had mentioned lived far away in Liverpool and most likely would never hear of his niece’s suitor until he was being introduced as his new nephew.  Miss King's biggest asset, the newly acquired 10,000 pounds, was not nearly the fortune that Mr. Wickham had aspired to - Darcy had ruined that ambition - but it would do - and quite nicely, too.  Yes, from his point of view, Miss King seemed quite the desirable woman.  He anticipated a short but productive courtship.

Of course, given his intentions, he would have to give up some of his more pleasurable pastimes, one of which was frequenting Longbourn, the home of the Bennet sisters.  He would especially miss the company of Miss Elizabeth.  She was lovely, shapely, lively, and cleverer than most of the local girls, although he had had no trouble convincing her how he had been ill-used by Darcy; she was most anxious to believe the worst about that man, so Wickham happily obliged. He was sure that eventually he could have won her heart - and perhaps more than that - with a bit of time, patience, and his special talent of oh-so-gentle seduction.  And what a seduction it could have been!  It would have been sweet - so sweet - to take such a well bred, intelligent girl as she. But to what end?  She had no fortune herself, nor connections to another's.  Maybe it was for the best; he might have enjoyed that pursuit far too much and ended up wed to the lady - to his disadvantage and disaster.  No, the lovely Miss Elizabeth was best left behind in favor of the plainer but more profitable Miss King.

And so it was that a few days later at the local Assembly Ball, Mr. Wickham caused a stir in the neighborhood by three times asking Miss Mary King to dance.  Of course propriety demanded that the third dance be politely declined by the lady, although she was content to sit out the rest of the dances in that officer's company.  But the offer had been made, leaving her and the rest of Meryton in no doubt as to what Mr. Wickham's ultimate intentions were.

For the next six weeks he called frequently on Miss King and her aunt, easily charming and flattering his way into the girl's heart.  She idolized him, and why shouldn't she?  He made her feel like the most beautiful woman in Hertfordshire - and when he was with her, she was.  She fairly glowed with his attentions; her green eyes sparkled when she laughed, and Mr. Wickham specialized in making her laugh, and blush, and tremble at his touch, and sigh.  If he chose to, he had no doubt he could persuade her to do anything he wanted - anything - but he dared not risk a scandal to her reputation.  This time he would keep with propriety and keep himself in check at all times.  He was determined within a month to be his own man, with a tidy income, a house, a wife, and the respectability that would come with it all.

~~~~~

One evening shortly before Easter, while bidding Miss King farewell, Mr. Wickham took her by the hand and said, "You and your Aunt should not be alone, Mary.  You need a man here, to watch over and protect you."

Miss King lowered her eyes shyly, then giggled and nodded in agreement.

"Yes, my aunt thinks so, too.  She wrote just that in a letter to my uncle last week."

"She did?" Mr. Wickham was suddenly wary.

"Mmm hmmm,” murmured Mary, drawing closer to him and looking into his eyes.  "My aunt hinted to him that he may not need to worry about us much longer."

He smiled.  The mention of the uncle had worried him, but the aunt's implied approval put his fears to rest.  He drew her hand to his lips.

"No, my sweet, he won’t have to worry much longer. I have not much to offer, poor soldier that I am," he paused to look longingly into her eyes.  He felt her hand tremble with anticipation as he continued.  "But you would make me the happiest of ..."

"Mary!" screeched a voice from the parlor.  "Do hurry bidding your young man on his way.  There is an awful draft coming in."

"Yes Aunt, we shall be quick," replied Mary with a yell, as her aunt was hard of hearing.  To Mr. Wickham she said eagerly, "You were saying?"

"Miss King, Mary, I ...” he started over.  She held her breath as she waited for his next words.

"MARY! Come away, please! I'll catch my death!"  They could hear the woman in the next room as she struggled out of her chair and made her way across the floor.

Miss King looked up apologetically and reluctantly drew back.  Mr. Wickham sighed in resignation.  The moment was gone, he would have to wait.

"May I call tomorrow, Miss King?  I have something very important to speak with you about."

"Of course you may," she said, squeezing his hand reassuringly as her aunt came into view.  "You are always welcome."

"Yes indeed, Mr. Wickham," agreed her aunt loudly but pleasantly. "You are always most welcome in our home.  Mary and I look forward to your visits, don't we?"  Mary nodded most enthusiastically.  "Good evening, sir.  Now Mary, come away from the door, dear.  You’ll catch a chill."

There was nothing for Mr. Wickham to do but bow his farewell and take his leave, vowing to himself that tomorrow he would secure a promise from Miss King of her hand in marriage.

~~~~~

Mr. Wickham returned to Miss King’s home shortly after one o’clock the next afternoon.  It seemed unusually quiet, but for a lone maid sweeping the front stoop.

“Could you please tell Miss King that I am here?” he addressed her.  “She is expecting me.”

“I am sorry, Mr. Wickham, sir.  I am afraid my mistresses have gone,” replied the servant.  “Miss King’s uncle arrived none too pleased early this morning, bade the ladies make haste to put on traveling clothes, and was gone away with them before noon.”

Mr. Wickham was exceedingly puzzled.  “And when are they expected to return?”

“They are not, sir.  I was told to close up the house and to send my mistresses things on to Liverpool.”

“Gone? Without a word?”

“None from the ladies, sir, although they were both upset – Miss King was in tears!  And the words the gentleman left for you,” the girl lowered her head in shame, “I could never repeat!”

Blast! thought Mr. Wickham, I would have been set but for a day – nay, half a day!  A fortune snatched from within my grasp yet again!  Curse the uncle, curse the old biddy, and curse Darcy!

He stormed off to the nearest tavern to sooth his ruined ambitions in drink, and later perhaps, in the arms of a sympathetic barmaid.

The End.

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